The Detective Prince
by mudpie102
Summary: Loki is sent down to Earth to help Sherlock with his detective cases as a punishment. Post-avengers.
1. Chapter 1

**I havn't given up on my other story, I just needed a break :)**

Thor held out the tesseract for his brother to , Loki took it. Within a blink of an eye they had been transported to Asgard's hall. Odin was sat on the throne. He nodded in acknowledgement at Thor and turned to Loki. Distastefully eyeing the muzzle and chains.

"Thor, unbind his mouth," Odin ordered. While Thor was fiddling with that, Odin continued

"Loki Odinson, you are being charged with attempted treason, attempted murder, murder, treason, lying, destruction, deceit and trying to rule a realm. Have you anything to say?"

"I don't think you've missed anything,"

"Your punishment for these deeds will be banishment to Midgard until I deem it fit. There, you shall always be bound with magic suppressing chains that will hold your hands behind your back, and you shall help Dr John Watson and Sherlock Holmes with their detective work,"

Loki was engulfed in a searing white light and lost consciousness.

He awoke lying on his back, flashing lights disorientated him and he felt something very uncomfortable behind his back. Ah, the handcuffs. Someone came over to him and reached down a hand to help him up. He indicated his hands and managed to get up on his knees before being surrounded.

He felt himself being forcibly lifted to his feet by the arms and sighed, a long suffering sigh. He was escorted to a police car- the vehicles the mortals that kept things in order rode in - he presumed he was in trouble for something.

Soon he was in a white room, the person who had offered his hand sat opposite the other side of the table. Questioning, he assumed.

"Who are you?"

"Loki, and you?"

"Lestrade, however you will be the one answering the questions. Where are you from?"

"Asgard, I suppose,"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was banished here, I believe my King mentioned something about a Mr Holmes,"

Someone entered the room with a clipboard. "Sir, orders have come from high up that the man shall be delivered to Mr Holmes. Here is his profile."

Lestrade leafed through his profile "So, you are an alien with daddy issues who tried to rule the Earth! Whatever next."

It was now the morning, and the police car had parked outside a flat marked 221B Baker Street. He was dragged out and shoved through the door, dragged up some stairs and deposited in the middle of an ordinary looking room.

"He's yours and Sherlock's problem! Orders from high up. Here's the profile." and with that Lestrade left, leaving a very awkward Loki shifting from foot to foot with his hands shackled.

Just then a man burst through the door, he was covered in blood and held a spear or long gun in his hand."That was tedious!" he announced to the man lounging on the armchair.

The loungey man replied, "You went on the tube like that?"

"No! I... John, who's that?" Ah, Loki thought, so the new one was Sherlock Holmes and the other John Watson.

"I don't know. Lestrade came in, dumped him here, said he was our problem, gave us a profile and left,"

"No problem," Sherlock responded, he was observing Loki "I know exactly who this is, this John is Loki of Asgard. You might know who I mean if I mention he was the alien who led an alien invasion in New York and tried to rule our planet,"

"Oh," John responded "The one you said was an idiot for trying to take over a planet with weapons that could fry a gods brain out,"

"Precisely!"

Loki glared at Sherlock, obviously displeased with the rude comment. Keeping it up throughout the time Sherlock read his profile. He was not pleased with this profile as he knew not how much private information it contained. Sherlock rushed out the room.

"So, Loki?"Watson attempted to make small talk.

"What?" he hissed.

"Do you want a seat,"

"I prefer to stand,"

Then Sherlock rushed into the room."John, I need some, get me some,"

"No,"

"Get me some,"

"No! Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what,"

Loki had a look of bafflement plastered on his face.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock called, throwing pieces of paper every where in his search for the cigarettes.

"Sherlock, your doing really well, don't give up now,"

"Please,"

"Sorry, can't help,"

"I'll tell you next weeks lottery numbers," producing a chuckle from John.

"It was worth a try."

An old lady walked through the door. Presumably Mrs. Hudson. She looked annoyed at the paper scattering the floor, but looked like it was a frequent thing. Then she noticed Loki standing in the middle of things, looking like he shouldn't be there. "Ooh, who's this boys?"

"A criminal mastermind," Sherlock said while searching the fireplace.

"Well I'm sure he can't be that bad," she said walking towards him. He stepped back in a defensive manner.

"Oh, Sherlock look at him, he's shaking. I'll get him a cup of tea, just this once though dear, I'm not your housekeeper," she scuttled into the kitchen.

Sherlock looked round at Loki. "Post-traumatic stress."

" Is he okay?" John asked.

"Oh yes, perfectly,"

Mrs Hudson came back a few minutes later with a steaming mug of tea. "Here you go dear," she tried to hand it to him but realized he was handcuffed. "Boys! He's handcuffed, can't you unchain him. He can't go round like that,"

"And why not?" Loki asked.

Mrs Hudson hurriedly put the tea down and left, muttering something under her breath. "I'll get you a straw for that," John stood and retrieved a straw from a cupboard.

"Not that one, John." Sherlock said "I used that for prodding a dead body,"

John looked as if he was going to say something but thought better of instead he just got a different one and plonked it in Loki's tea. Loki stared at it like it was a feral dog for a while and then knelt down by the side table and started sucking the tea out. He liked it.

Sherlock planted himself in the arm chair and started drumming his fingers. "When's the next case?"

"Nothing on the website?"John tried, trying to shut him up.

"What's a website?"Loki asked. They both ignored him.

Sherlock grabbed his laptop and handed it to John. John started reading but Sherlock told him anyway.

"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I can't find Bluebell anywhere. Please, please, please, can you help?"

"Bluebell?"  
"The rabbit, John!"

"Oh,"

"Oh, but there's more, before Bluebell disappeared it turned luminous, 'like a fairy' according to little in the morning Bluebell was gone, hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry... wait, what am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade, tell him there is an escaped rabbit."

"Are you serious?" John asked.

"It's this, or Cluedo,"

"What's Cluedo?" Loki asked. He now sat with his legs crossed.

John felt like he should answer time, "It's a detective board game, we are never playing it again, not with Sherlock."

"Why not?" they both said at the same time.

" Because it is not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, that's why,"

"Well, it was the only possible solution,"

"It's not in the rules,"

"Then the rules are wrong!" Sherlock yelled.

They were interrupted when the doorbell rang once. Loki jumped, John holds up a finger, thinking and Sherlock looks towards the living room door.

"Single ring," John observed.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second,"Sherlock added

"Client!" they both summarized.

They were all sat around the TV watching a documentary on Dartmoor. Loki was still cross legged and staring at the TV in amazement, wondering how a tiny person got inside. Sherlock looked un-interested and was mainly looking at the client - Henry Knight, he in tun was watching the documentary anxiously. Watson was just watching normally. Henry Knight showed up the screen, along with Grimpen Resident. "I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor..." Sherlock picked up the remote and switched it off. Loki looked like he was in shock, he stared at Henry like he had 6 heads before being able to ask "How come you were in two places at once?"

Henry looked dumbfounded as I suppose most people would. It was a bizarre sight, a criminal mastermind who had tried to rule the world sat cross legged on the floor with his hands handcuffed behind his back. Looking shocked and quite scared over a TV like a child.

"I'll explain it to you later, Loki," he assured him, then talking more to Henry " You must excuse him he's not quite right in his mind,"

"What are you on about, I'm perfectly fine. I'm a prince."Loki retorted.

"What did you see?"Sherlock asked Henry?

"Oh," he pointed at the TV "I... I was just about to say,"

"Yes, in a TV interview, I prefer to do my own editing,"

"Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. 'Scuse me." he blew his nose in a napkin.

"In your own time," John said in an effort to lighten things up.

"But quite quickly," Sherlock added. John gave him daggers.

"Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?"

"No."

"It's an amazing place. Like nowhere else. It's sort of ...bleak but beautiful."

"Mm, not interested. Moving on,"  
"We used to go for walks, when my mum died, me and my dad. Every evening we used to go out into the moor,"

"Yes, good. Skipping to the night your dad was violently killed. Where did that happen?"John's eyebrows raised at the coldhearted question.

"There's a place... it's... it's a sort of landmark called Dewers Hollow,"

Sherlock tilted his head.

Henry continued "That's an old name for the Devil,"

"So?"

"Did you see the devil that night?" John asked.

"Yes," he whispered.

"It was huge, coal black fur and red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart. I cant remember anything after that. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My fathers body was never found."

"Hmm, red eyes, coal black fur, enormous: dog or wolf?"John looked over at Sherlock.  
"Or a genetic experiment," Sherlock suggested, hiding a smile.

Yet again Loki interrupted with a "What is that?"

"Are you laughing at me Mr Holmes?"

"Why, are you joking?"

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the types of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV took me seriously."

"And I presume, did wonders for Devon tourism. Loki, don't ask me where Devon is." Loki looked down in a dejected way.

"Yea.." Henry agreed.

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father. That was twenty years ago, why come to us now?"John asked.

"I don't think you can help me Mr Holmes, as you find it all so funny," Henry spat, walking out the room.

"Because of what happened last night," Sherlock states, causing Henry to pause and look back.

"How, how do you know?"

"I didn't know; I noticed,"

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted." Sherlock said, quick as a flash.

Henry stared at him before glancing to John and me. John sighed and looked away, and I merely shrugged. Hesitantly, Henry sat back in the chair and began rummaging through his pockets.

"How on earth did you notice all that?" He asked.

"It's not important ..." John began.

"Punched-out holes where your ticket's been checked." Sherlock cut him off.

"Not now, Sherlock." John scolded slightly.

"Oh please. I've been cooped up in here for ages."

"You're just showing off."

"Of course. I am a show-off. That's what we do." He turned his attention back to Henry. "The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee, the strength of the stain shows that you didn't take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a sandwich."

"How did you know it was disappointing?" Henry asked, half-sobbing.

"Is there any other type of breakfast on a train?" Sherlock shrugged. "The girl – female handwriting's quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the numbers. You've been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you're not that into her after all. Then there's the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I know the signs. No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab here." Sherlock glanced at his watch. "It's just after nine fifteen. You're desperate. The first train from Exeter to London leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have happened last night. Am I wrong?"

Henry just stared at him for a moment, amazed, before shakily replying, "No."

"You're right." Henry said, astonished. "You're completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were quick."

"It's my job." Sherlock replied, leaning forward and glaring at Henry. "Now shut up and smoke."

John looked exasperated and Loki just sat there with his moth open in an O shape.

"Um, Henry your parents both died when you were what, seven?" John said, leafing through his notes he had taken.

"I know. That...my" Henry was interrupted when Sherlock stepped over and sucked in most of the cigarette smoke, breathing it back out with pleasure.

"That must be a ... quite a trauma." John said, trying to ignore Sherlock. "Have you ever thought that maybe you invented this story, this ..."

They were once again distracted as Henry exhaled another lungful of smoke, Sherlock diving in to suck in the smoke again. John paused until he sat down again.

"...to account for it?"

"That's what Doctor Mortimer says." Henry said, dragging his eyes away from Sherlock.

"Who?" John asked.

"His therapist." Sherlock said as Henry answered the same simultaneously. "Obviously." He continued.

"Can I have a therapist" Loki asked.

"You know, that's a very good idea, I am going to ask Lestrade at some point,"John replied, being distracted.

"What is a therapist?"Loki then asked. John and Sherlock sighed.

"Louise Mortimer." Henry explained. "She's the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face my demons."

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a strange place, the Hollow." Henry began, darkly. "Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid."

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Yes, if I wanted poetry, I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." John rolled his eyes.

"What did you see?" Sherlock pressed.

"Footprints – on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart."

Sherlock leaned back in his seat, sighing in exasperation.

"Man's or a woman's?" John asked.

"Neither." Henry began. "They were ..."

"Is that it?" Sherlock interrupted. "Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were ..."

"No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins." Sherlock cut him off again. "Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking."

"No, but what about the footprints?" Henry asked.

"Oh, they're probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing." Sherlock leaned forward in his seat and waved Henry off to the door. "Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me."

Sherlock stood up, buttoning his jacket, and walked into the kitchen. Henry turned in his seat to look at him.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" He called after stopped dead in his tracks, slowly turning and walking back to the living room.

"Say that again." He demanded.

"I found the footprints; they were ..."

"No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago, exactly as you said them."

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound." Henry repeated slowly.

"I'll take the case." Sherlock told him.

"Sorry, what?" John asked.

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It's very promising." he told Henry.

"No-no-no, sorry, what?" John interjected. "A minute ago, footprints were boring; now they're very promising?"

"It's nothing to do with footprints." Sherlock replied as he stopped pacing. "As ever, John, you weren't listening. Baskerville: ever heard of it?"

"Vaguely. It's very hush-hush."

"Sounds like a good place to start."

"Ah! You'll come down, then?" Henry asked, relieved.

"No, I can't leave London at the moment." Sherlock answered. "Far too busy. Don't worry – putting my best man onto it." He walked over to John and patted his shoulder. "Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word of it himself."

"What are you talking about, you're busy?" John questioned. "You don't have a case! A minute ago you were complaining ..."

"Bluebell, John! I've got Bluebell!" Sherlock interrupted. "The case of the vanishing, glow-in-the-dark rabbit! NATO's in uproar." He finished, looking at Henry.

"Oh, sorry, no, you're not coming, then?" Henry asked, confused.

Sherlock donned a regretful, semi-pouting expression that just reeked of sarcasm. John groaned.

"Okay." He said as he stood up. Sherlock grinned as he did so. "Okay."

John walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up the skull, taking the packet of cigarettes from underneath it. He turned and tossed the packet across to Sherlock as he put the skull down. Sherlock caught the packet and immediately tossed it over his shoulder.

"I don't need those any more. I'm going to Dartmoor." He walked out of the living room. "You go on ahead, Henry. We'll follow later."

"Er, sorry, so you are coming?" Henry scrambled to his feet.

Sherlock and turned to the back of the room. "Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldn't miss this for the world!"

Sherlock and John put some stuff in their suitcases and made to leave.

"What about me?"Loki called out.

"You're coming,"

Loki staggered to his feet and followed them down the stairs. He would of shut the door, but he was unable.

"Get in the middle," Sherlock ordered. Loki obliged as he saw no point in being difficult.

**They stopped off the side of the road and walked over to some rocks sticking out of the hill. John unfolded a map and looked at it as Sherlock climbed one of the rocks and looked around. John pointed. "There's Baskerville." He turned around and pointed the other way. "Uh, that's Grimpen Village." He turned back around and glanced at the map. "So that must be…yeah, Dewer's Hollow."**

**Sherlock and Loki looked in the same direction. Sherlock turned his head and pointed. "What's that?"**

**"Hmm?" John looked where he was pointing. He put his binoculars to his eyes. "Mine field? Technically, Baskerville's a military base, so I guess they've always been keen on keeping people out."**

**Sherlock looked at him. "Clearly."**

**After Sherlock was done looking around, we got back into the Jeep and went to Grimpen Village. We arrived at the little inn and saw a group of people.**

**As they passed the group, a man in the middle was talking next to a sign that read "Beware of the Hound!" they caught part of what he said: "Remember, stay away from the moor at night if you value your lives!" The group laughed and John looked at Sherlock as he turned his collar up more. Sherlock glanced at him. "Cold." John nodded like he didn't believe them, and they went inside.**

**"I'll go and find out more about the pub. You and Loki check in." Sherlock told them.**

**The manager and barman, who introduced himself as Gary, handed him their keys.**

**"Eh, sorry we couldn't do a double room for you boys."**

**"That's fine. We-we're not ..." John attempted to protest.**

**John saw the smug smile on Gary's face and gave up. Loki understood and stifled a laugh.**

**"There you go." John said, giving him money for their drinks.**

**"Oh, ta. I'll just get your change."**

**"Ta."**

**"There you go." Gary said as he returned, handing the change to John.**

**"I couldn't help noticing on the map of the moor, a skull and crossbones." John mentioned to Gary.**

**"Oh that, aye." He replied vaguely.**

**"Pirates?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.**

**"Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it."**

**"Oh, right."**

**"It's not what you think. It's the Baskerville testing site. It's been going for eighty-odd years. I'm not sure anyone really knows what's there anymore."**

**"Explosives?" John asked.**

**"Oh, not just explosives." Gary answered. "Break into that place and – if you're lucky – you just get blown up, so they say ... in case you're planning on a nice wee stroll."**

**"Ta. I'll remember."**

**"Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound!" He chuckled. "Did you see that show, that documentary?"**

**"Quite recently, yeah."**

**"Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell."**

**"Have you ever seen it? The hound, I mean." John asked.**

**"Me? No." He said, pointing out the door where the tour guide was standing, talking on his phone to someone. "Fletcher has. He runs the walks – the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? He's seen it."**

**"That's handy for trade." John noted.**

**Gary turned to a man who, by the way he was dressed, was clearly the inn's cook who has just arrived behind the bar. "I'm just saying we've been rushed off our feet, Billy."**

**"Yeah. Lots of monster-hunters. Doesn't take much these days. One mention on Twitter and oomph." Billy said, turning to Gary. "We're out of WKD."**

**"All right." Gary told him, walking behind the bar.**

**Billy turned to John. "What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I don't know how we sleep nights. Do you, Gary?"**

**Gary placed a hand on Billy's shoulder and looks at him affectionately. "Like a baby."**

**"That's not true." Billy said, looking back at John. "He's a snorer."**

**"Hey, geez!" Gary said, embarrassed, trying to get Billy to stop talking.**

**"Is yours a snorer?" Billy asked John, clearly implying Sherlock.**

**"... Got any crisps?" John asked, avoiding the question.**

**"And who's this?" Gary asked, nodding at Loki.**

**"Loki."said Loki, opting to speak for himself instead of waiting for John to introduce him. Gary held a hand out to shake. The bar was in his way and he couldn't see Loki's condition.**

**"Well you see I..."Loki started but John interrupted.**

**"He's arrested. Handcuffs."**

**"Oh, I see. Sorry," Gary was clearly feeling awkward " Well make sure he causes no trouble here," the tone was funny and carefree and John and he started laughing. Loki did not find it humorous though and spoke his thoughts " If I'd of wanted to I would of by now,"**

John broke the silence "We better be checking on Sherlock,". Both of them walked outside and sat on the bench where Sherlock was.

"I called Henry..." John began, but was cut off by Sherlock.

******"Bets off John, sorry,"**

**"What?"**

**"Bet?"Fletcher demanded.**

Sherlock looked at his watch, then up at the sky. "My plan needs darkness. I think we need another half an hour."

"Wait, wait. What bet?"

Sherlock looked at him. "Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldn't prove that you'd seen the hound."

John thought for a minute, then smiled. "Yeah, the guys in the pub said you could."

Sherlock smirked and the man laughed and looked at Sherlock. "Well, you're gonna lose your money, mate."

Sherlock looked at him. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I seen it. Only about a month ago. Up at the hollow. It was foggy, mind. Couldn't make much out." He pulled his phone out.

"I see. No witnesses, I suppose."

"No, but…"

Sherlock shrugged. "Never are."

"Wait…there." He showed them a picture on his phone. It looked like a black wolf to me.

Sherlock laughed. "Is that it? It's not exactly proof, is it? Sorry, John. I win."

"Wait, that's not all."

They looked at him. He shook his head. "People don't like going up there, you know. To the Hollow. Gives 'em a…bad sort of feelin'."

Sherlock lowered his voice to a whisper. "Ooh, is it haunted?" He went back to his normal voice and frowned. "Is that supposed to convince me?"

"Nah, don't be stupid. Nothing like that. But I reckon there is something out there. Something from Baskerville. Escaped."

Sherlock shrugged. "A clone? Superdog?" He laughed again.

"Maybe. God knows what they've been springin' on us all these years. Or puttin' in the water. I wouldn't trust 'em as far as I could spit."

Sherlock looked at him snidely. "Is that the best you've got?"

The man put his phone back in his pocket and looked at Sherlock. "I once had a mate who worked for the MoD. One weekend, we were meant to go fishing, but he never showed up, not 'til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can see him now. 'I've seen things today, Fletch,' he said. 'I ain't never wanna see again. Terrible things.' He'd been sent to some secret army place. Porton Down, maybe. Baskerville, or somewhere else. In the labs there, the really secret labs, he said he'd seen…terrible things. Rats as big as dogs, he said. And dogs…dogs the size of horses." He pulled out a mould of a huge paw print, bigger than a horse's hoof print.

John glanced at Sherlock. "Uh, we did say fifty."

Sherlock smirked and took fifty pounds out of his wallet and handed it to smirked and put the mould back into his bag.

**Fletcher left. "Can someone get me a straw?" Loki asked.  
"Get one for yourself," Sherlock responded.**

So Loki walked towards the bar. Gary seemed intimidated. "Do you have a straw?" Loki inquired.  
"Oh, yes," Gary picked one up and handed it to him. He took it with his teeth and went back out. He sat down and attempted putting it in his glass multiple times before succeeding. He was just about to start drinking when Sherlock engaged him in conversation.

"Loki, it's time we went over the rules. Rule 1, you are to stay with me, unless told otherwise. Rule 2, you will not try anything tricky. And rule 3, the handcuffs will be kept on. Clear?"  
Loki nodded and drank. After a while "Is your drink alcoholic?"  
"Yes," they both said.  
"You never said I couldn't have alcohol,"

"No, but that's the law. People in custody or arrested are not allowed alcohol consumption."

"Not fair," he growled.

Sherlock walked away.John downed his drink and joined him. Loki looked at his drink in a painful way, he had only drank half.

**I'ts Sherlock Holmes Birthday. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!**

**I was going to post it whole but I wanted to post it for his birthday. It continues in Chapter 2.**


	2. Chapter 2

CH.2

"Pass, please." He asked.

Sherlock reached into his coat pocket and handed him a pass.

"Thank you."

The man walked away with the pass as another man had a sniffer dog check the jeep, probably for explosives

"You've got ID for Baskerville. How?" John asked quietly.

"It's not specific to this place. It's my brother's. Access all areas. I, um ..." Sherlock cleared his throat. "...acquired it ages ago, just in case."

"Brilliant," John breathed sarcastically.

"What's the matter?"

"We'll get caught." John answered.

"No we won't – well, not just yet." Sherlock told us.

"Caught in five minutes. "Oh, hi, we just thought we'd come and have a wander round your top secret weapons base." "Really? Great! Come in – kettle's just boiled." That's if we don't get shot." John complained.

The gates began to slide open as the security guard walked back over to the car.

"Clear." The dog handler told the guard.

"Thank you very much, sir." The guard said to Sherlock, handing him the pass.

"Thank you." Sherlock replied.

"Straight through, sir."

Sherlock put the car into gear and rolled them forward through the gates.

"Mycroft's name literally opens doors!" John was amazed.

"I've told you – he practically is the British government. I reckon we've got about twenty minutes before they realize something's wrong." Sherlock informed them.

Sherlock drove up to the main building at Baskerville and parked. They all clambered out of the car where they were lead to the main door by a soldier, As they approached the entrance, a military jeep pulled up and a young corporal got out.

"What is it?" the corporal asked. "Are we in trouble?"

"Are we in trouble, _sir_." Sherlock repeated sternly.

"Yes, sir, sorry, sir." The corporal apologized.

However, the corporal prevented us from getting into the building. Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows."You were expecting us?"

"Your ID showed up straight away, Mr. Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there something wrong, sir?"

"Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not."

"It's just we don't get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesn't happen."

"Ever heard of a spot check?" John asked, taking out his wallet and flashing his army ID to Lyons. "Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers."

Even before he had finished speaking, the corporal came to attention and saluted. John crisply returned the salute.

Corporal Lyons nodded and turned to Loki "And who are your sir?"

Loki smiled at being called sir. In Asgard he was called things like trickster, silvertongue, frosty and the worst, jotunn runt. Someone on Midgard had even said he looked like a gay reindeer with his helmet on.

John intervened, "Assistant,"

"Why is he wearing handcuffs,"

Sherlock took charge when John was out of ideas "He's a criminal, however an expert in this topic, we needed him for information when we get back. He's perfectly safe,"

"He'll need to be escorted,"Lyons pressed. Two heavily guarded men flanked Loki's sides and had a vice like grip on his arms. Loki just sighed.

"Sir. Major Barrymore won't be pleased, sir. He'll want to see you three," John interjected.

"We'll need the full tour right away. Carry on."

The corporal hesitated.

"That's an order, Corporal." John pressed.

"Yes, sir."

Lyons, turned and strode up to the entrance. Sherlock threw a fleeting look at John with a proud smile plastered across his face, they followed Lyons over to a door marked AUTOMATIC SECURITY DOOR where Lyons swiped his card and then waited for Sherlock to repeat the action. They passed through without any mishaps and Sherlock checked the time.

"Nice touch." Sherlock told John quietly.

"Haven't pulled rank in ages." John replied.

"Enjoy it?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh yeah.

The doors slid opens to reveal an elevator on the other side. Lyons pressed the marked -1 button and the doors closed, moving them to the next floor down. They were led into a brightly lit and white tiled laboratory. As they walked forward, they noticed various scientific staff dressed either in white coveralls including full breathing masks, or lab coats and face masks were walking around the were large cages to the right of them and as they passed a monkey shrieked and threw itself at the bars. Sherlock spun on his heel and observed the chain clinging tightly to it's neck.

"How many animals do you keep down here?" Sherlock asked.

"Lots, sir." Lyons answered.

"Any ever escape?" John inquired.

"They'd have to know how to use that lift, sir. We're not breeding them that clever."

"Unless they have help." Loki responded.

A man in a white lab coat holding a mask walked over to them.

"Ah, and you are?" He asked us.

"Sorry, Doctor Frankland." Lyons apologized. "I'm just showing these gentlemen around."

"Ah, new faces, huh?" Frankland beamed at us. "Nice. Careful you don't get stuck here, though. I only came to fix a tap!" he looked strangely at Loki, as if trying to recognize him.

John chuckled politely as Frankland walked away towards the elevator, Lyons continuing on towards the other end of the room.

"How far down does that lift go?" John asked.

"Quite a way, sir." Lyons answered.

"Mm-hmm, and what's down there?"

"Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir." He answered briskly. "This way please, gentlemen."

"So what exactly is it that you do here?" John asked him.

"I thought you'd know, sir, this being an inspection." Lyons replied.

"Well, I'm not an expert, am I?"

"He is,"Lyons said indicating Loki. Loki looked panicked."Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir."

"But mostly weaponry?"

"Of one sort or another, yes."

We had reached the next door, and Lyons swiped his pass. Sherlock reached in and did likewise.

"Biological, chemical ...?" John pressed.

"One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared."

Sherlock checked his watch again as Lyons led them through into another lab where a monkey stood up on its back legs with one hand high in the air and shrieking before sitting down again on a high metal table. A female scientist looked at it and then turned to her colleague.

"Okay, Michael, let's try Harlow Three next time." She said to the man.

They approached her as she began to walk away from the table.

"Doctor Stapleton." Lyons greeted as they reached her.

"Stapleton." Sherlock muttered thoughtfully.

"Yes?" She answered, looking at us. "Who's this?"

"Priority Ultra, ma'am." Lyons informed her. "Orders from on high. An inspection."

"Really?"

"We're to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton." Sherlock replied. "What's your role at Baskerville?"

Stapleton snorted in disbelief.

"Er, accorded every courtesy, isn't that the idea?" John pressed.

"I'm not free to say." She responded, "Official secrets."

"Oh, you most certainly are free ..." Sherlock said, smiling before lowering his voice ominously. "... and I suggest you remain that way."

She stared at him, hesitating, for a moment. "I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up. Genes, mostly, now and again actual fingers."

Sherlock got a strange look on his face before digging around in his pocket, pulling out his notebook.

"Stapleton. I knew I knew your name." He said.

"I doubt it." She retorted.

"People say there's no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead." He held up the notebook to her, her face morphing into shock.

"Have you been talking to my daughter?" She asked.

"Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?" Sherlock asked her.

"The rabbit?" John questioned, bewildered.

"Disappeared from inside a locked hutch, which was always suggestive." Sherlock continued.

"You murdered Bluebell?"Loki asked as if grieved. Sherlock and John both were unsure whether he was being sarcastic or truly was disturbed.

"Clearly you've done worse,"Stapleton retorted, eyeing the cuffs. Loki glared at her and narrowed his eyes.

"Clearly an inside job." Sherlock ignored Loki once more.

"Oh, you reckon?" Stapleton asked, sarcasm lacing her voice.

"Why? Because it glowed in the dark."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. Who are you?"

Sherlock checked his watch again before turning to Lyons. "Well, I think we've seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much."

"That's it?" Lyons asked, surprised.

"That's it." He turned and walked briskly back to the door as John, Lyons and Loki and Co followed. "It's this way, isn't it?"

"Just a minute!" Stapleton called after us, though we ignored her.

John rushed up to Sherlock so Lyons couldn't hear them.

"Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?" John asked, clearly upset.

Sherlock didn't answer, swiping his card as we reached the door and waiting for Lyons to catch up and do the same with his own card. Sherlock walked swiftly through the security doors as soon as they opened and headed for the elevator. His phone trilled a text alert, and he looked at it without stopping.

"Twenty-three minutes. Mycroft's getting slow." He chuckled, putting his phone back in his pocket.

When we did the same for the elevator doors, they was surprised to see Doctor Frankland standing inside.

"Hello ... again." He smiled at us as we got in the elevator.

When we reached our destination one floor up, the doors opened to reveal a bearded man in military uniform waiting for them. He did not look happy, to put it lightly.

"Er, um, Major ..." Lyons started nervously.

"This is bloody outrageous. Why wasn't I told?" Major Barrymore demanded.

"Major Barrymore, is it?" John said, stepping out of the elevator. "Yes, well, good. Very good." He offered Barrymore his hand. "We're very impressed, aren't we, Mr. Holmes?Loki?"

Barrymore refused to take John's hand and Sherlock merely pulled out his phone, the text alert going off again.

"Deeply; hugely." He muttered, brushing past Barrymore.

We quickly followed him, the major close behind, as we made our way to the exit door.

"The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense ..." Barrymore started, as if he was about to go off on a rant.

"I'm so sorry, Major." Sherlock apologized insincerely.

"Inspections?"

"New policy. Can't remain un-monitored forever. Goodness knows what you'd get up to." He lowered his voice and urgently said to John. "Keep walking."

"Sir!" Lyons called, coming out of a side room. He slapped an alarm button on the wall, the alert blaring and red lights flashing. The automated security door clicked into lock as they turned back to him. "ID unauthorized, sir."

"What?" Barrymore demanded.

"I've just had the call."

"Is that right?" He turned back to them. "Who are you?"

"Look, there's obviously been some kind of mistake." John desperately stated.

Barrymore held out his hand for Sherlock's ID card, which he handed over. He looked at the card and then up at Sherlock.

"Clearly not Mycroft Holmes."

"Computer error, Major. It'll all have to go in the report." John said, attempting to keep up the facade.

"What the hell's going on?" Barrymore demanded.

"It's all right, Major." Frankland said, walking over. "I know exactly who these gentlemen are."

"You do?" Barrymore asked.

"Yeah. I'm getting a little slow on faces but Mr. Holmes here isn't someone I expected to show up in this place."

"Ah, well ..." Sherlock attempted to explain.

"Good to see you again, Mycroft." Frankland interrupted, offering Sherlock his hand.

John had to struggle to keep his surprise hidden. Sherlock took Frankland's hand, not missing a beat.

"I had the honor of meeting Mr. Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in ..." Frankland paused, pretending to think "... Brussels, was it?"

"Vienna." Sherlock 'corrected'.

"Vienna, that's it." Frankland turned to Barrymore. "This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Major. There's obviously been a mistake."

Barrymore frowned, but turned and nodded to Lyons, who turned off the alarm.

"On your head be it, Doctor Frankland." Barrymore said, turning back to him.

"I'll show them out, Corporal." Frankland laughed lightly, turning to Lyons.

"Very well, sir." He replied.

Sherlock spun on his heel and walked towards the now open entrance door, John, Frankland and Loki (who had now been released) hot on his heels.

"Thank you." Sherlock said to Frankland once they were out of earshot.

"This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?" He asked, though none of us responded. "I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didn't realize he was going to contact Sherlock Holmes!"

Sherlock grimaced.

"Oh, don't worry. I know who you really are. I'm never off your website." Frankland quickly added.

"Thought you'd be wearing the hat, though."

"That wasn't my hat." Sherlock replied tersely.

"I hardly recognize him without the hat!" Frankland said to John, he obviously still didn't like the look of Loki, but was warming up to John..

"It wasn't my hat." Sherlock said, emphasizing the words.

"I love the blog too, Doctor Watson." Frankland added.

"Oh, cheers!" John thanked him.

"The, er, the Pink thing ..."

"Mm-hmm."

"... and that one about the aluminum crutch!"

"Yes."

"You know Henry Knight?" Sherlock asked as he stopped and turned towards Frankland.

"Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place. Still, he was a good friend." Frankland turned, noticing Barrymore watching them, before turning back. "Listen, I can't really talk now." He took a card from his coat pocket and handed it to Sherlock. "Here's my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call."

"I never did ask, Doctor Frankland, what exactly is it that you do here?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh, Mr. Holmes, I would love to tell you – but then, of course, I'd have to kill you!" Frankland laughed cheerfully.

"That would be tremendously ambitious of you." Sherlock replied, absolutely straight-faced. "Tell me about Doctor Stapleton."

"Never speak ill of a colleague."

"Yet you'd speak well of one, which you're clearly omitting to do."

"I do seem to be, don't I?"

"I'll be in touch." Sherlock raised the card.

"Any time."

They left him behind, walking back to the jeep.

"So?" John asked.

"So?" Sherlock repeated.

"What was all that about the rabbit?"

With a smile as his only answer, Sherlock pulled his coat tighter around him, flipping the collar up as they reached the car. John rolled his eyes and turned to him.

"Oh, please, can we not do this, this time?" He asked.

"Do what?"

"You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, but his confusion prevented any words from coming out.

"... I don't do that." Sherlock protested finally, getting into the car.

"Yeah you do." he countered.

**Thanks to all the followers, this wouldn't of been posted this early if you didn't inspire me.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to the followers and reviewers :)**

As they drove across the moors to Henry's house, John was unable to let the unanswered question about Bluebell rest.

"So, the email from Kirsty – the, er, missing luminous rabbit." He began.

"Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specializes in genetic manipulation." Sherlock informed him.

"She made her daughter's rabbit glow in the dark."

"Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen. Simple enough these days."

"So ..." John trailed off, intending for Sherlock to elaborate.

"So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals. The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?"

"To be fair, that is quite a wide field."

"And what's a cell phone," Loki interjected. "Why did that strange mortal say 'cell' number?

"Probably spent a considerable amount of time in America," Sherlock postulated."That could be some valid information, well done Loki.

Henry's home was enormous – a four-story stone building that was probably a very important property in the area in the past. There was a large old-fashioned glass conservatory is attached to the rear of the building on the ground floor, which looked more like a small jungle than a conservatory, and a modern two-story glass extension built onto the side of the house to join it to another two-story stone building. They went through the conservatory to get to the door, it had a very run-down look to it hadn't been painted in Henry wasn't the best at house maintenence. Sherlock rang the doorbell and moments later Henry opened the door.

"Hi." He greeted.

"Hi." John responded.

"Come in, come in."

Loki followed Sherlock inside as he walked in and down the hallway. John, however, stopped to look into a large high-ceilinged sitting room before following Henry again.

"This is, uh ... are you, um ..." John paused, feeling around for the right word. "... rich?"

"Yeah." Henry answered.

"Right."

Henry passed Shelock and Loki, leading them towards the kitchen. Sherlock tossed a dark look at John, and Loki looked at home. He was used to this as he grew up in the Asgardian castle which was full of splendor.

When they sat down in the kitchen, Sherlock began making himself coffee. Henry sat across from John and Loki and began to describe the dreams he'd been having.

"It's-it's a couple of words. It's what I keep seeing. 'Liberty' ..." He said, staring at the island table.

"Liberty." John repeated, pulling out his notebook.

"'Liberty' and ... 'in'. It's just that." He picked up the bottle of milk that had been left on the island. "Are you finished?"

"Mmm." Sherlock nodded.

As Henry put the milk in the fridge, John turned to Sherlock, who was now seated next to him.

"Mean anything to you?"

"Liberty in death – isn't that the expression?" Sherlock said softly. "The only true freedom."

"What now, then?" Henry asked, turning back around.

"Sherlock's got a plan." John told him.

"Yes."

"Right." Henry said.

"We take you back out onto the moor ..." Sherlock began.

"Okay ..."

"... and see if anything attacks you."

"What?" John was shocked. Loki was similarly, he stared at Sherlock in disbelief.

"That should bring things to a head." Sherlock finished dryly.

"At night? You want me to go out there at night?" Henry asked shakily.

"Mmm." Sherlock affirmed.

"That's your plan?" John snorted with laughter. "Brilliant."

"Got any better ideas?" Sherlock asked.

"That's not a plan."

"Listen, if there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do: find out where it lives."

He looked at Henry, flashing a smile before sipping his coffee. Henry, however, did not look encouraged in the slightest. If anything it made Henry even more sure that Sherlock was mad and John and Loki were some loonies.

It was dusk when they finally went to the moors, and Henry was leading them across the rocks towards Dewer's Hollow. Loki was a bit behind as he was struggling to keep up with all the clambering around without the use of his hands. By the time they reached the woods it was almost completely dark and as they headed into the trees what little light was left faded off. At least they had flashlights. Loki heard John stop behind him and turned to see what had caught his eye. Sherlock and Henry took no notice and kept walking forward. Loki stepped closer to John as he flashed his light into the bushes, but there was nothing there. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a bright light blinking repeatedly off into the distance.

"Sher..." John began, but realized he had already gone off. "Loki, you were supposed to stay with Sherlock! Quick, run and catch up!" Loki went scarpering off on their trail.

"Possibly," he pulled out his notebook. "U ... M ... Q ... R ... A. Ah ha! It is, it's morse code.

The light vanished, offering no more letters.

"U, M, Q, R, A." He repeated it in a whisper.

John shook his head, shutting the notebook, and headed off to where the other two and Loki had gone. He called Sherlock's name as loud as he dared. There was an eerie metallic thrumming sound, coming from somewhere. He stopped and aimed his flashlight in the direction of the sound, but there was nothing. He started to move forward, but heard it again. It repeated, now interspersed with a short metallic ping. John walked slowly towards the sound but began to quietly chuckle when he found the source. He saw a rusty metal container, or it might've been an oil drum, lying in the undergrowth. Rain water or dew was dripping from the tree above it, causing the noises when it hit the drum. John made a sound of relief, then he heard something and saw massive flashes through the bushes behind him. He spun to look but it was already gone; a couple of seconds later an anguished howl burst from the distance. John took off to find the others.

Not too long after, he saw Sherlock storming through the trees, followed closely by Loki and Henry.

"Did you hear that?" John asked, referencing the howl he had heard.

Sherlock didn't answer, storming straight past him, John turned to follow him.

"We saw it. We saw it." Henry said breathlessly.

"No. I didn't see anything." Sherlock denied, almost rushing his words.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"I didn't. See. Anything." He spat out, not stopping for anything.

Loki accompanied John and Sherlock back to the inn as Henry went back to his house. He refused to speak to either of them no matter what John tried. And even a few prompts from Loki. They sat him in an armchair by a roaring open fire, his face still full of shock and disbelief.

"Sherlock, what happened?" John pressed, sitting down in the armchair in the middle.

No response.

"You wouldn't be looking like this if nothing happened. Please, tell me." John waited for a response for a moment then implored Loki to help him "Loki what happened?"

"It...he...I...we... we saw it!" Loki finally managed to spit out, eyes glazed over and sweating profusely. He had big red bags under his eyes that made them look sunken in, he looked in a bad way. "A hound."

Sherlock didn't respond, pressing his hands together in his normal thinking position and tossing a worry filled glance at John before looking back to the fire.

"And there isn't one though, is there?" John continued. "Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we'd know.

Sherlock clasped his fingers together, closing his eyes and breathing heavily as if he was trying to fend off a panic attack.

"They'd be for sale. I mean, that's how it works." John pulled out his notebook. "Er, listen, er, on the moor I saw someone signaling. Er, Morse – I guess it's Morse. Doesn't seem to make much sense."

Sherlock was silent still, pulling in a sharp breaths through his nose and blowing it out through his mouth. Loki was much in the same way.

"Er, U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean ... anything ..."

John looked at Sherlock and finally realized how distressed Sherlock was. He paused for a moment, putting his notebook away again and sat back in his chair.

"So, okay, what have we got?" John continued. "We know there's footprints, cause Henry found them; so did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something."

Sherlock blew out another shaky breath. John looked across to him and frowned momentarily.

"Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog."

"Loki's right." Sherlock finally spoke.

"What?" John asked.

"I saw it too." Sherlock's voice was shaking.

"What?" John said, shocked.

"I saw it too, John." Sherlock repeated.

"Just ... just a minute." John sat forward. "You saw what?"

Sherlock turned his face towards John, his face twisted with self-loathing as he spoke through gritted teeth.

"A hound, out there in the Hollow. A gigantic hound."

John almost laughed as Sherlock looked away, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. Loki shot a scathing look at John as he sat back in his chair.

"Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can't just ..." He paused as Sherlock blew out another breath. "Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts."

"Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true." Sherlock said softly.

"So what does that mean in this case?" John asked.

Sherlock looked away, reaching down to the table to grab his drink from the table. He nodded towards his trembling hand, sniggering humorlessly. "Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid."

He took a drink and held the glass up again, his hand still shaking.

"Sherlock?" John asked carefully. Loki was looking at Sherlock as well, in fright.

"Always been able to keep myself distant ..." He took another drink. "... divorce myself from ... feelings that were unnecessary. But look, you see ..." He held up the glass and glared at his shaking hand. "... body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions." He slammed the glass down onto the table. "The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment."

"Yeah, all right, Spock, just ..." John paused, realizing he'd begun to raise his voice. "... take it easy."

"John," Loki started.

"He's been pretty wired lately, Reindeer Games, you know he don't even know him!" John interrupted before turning back to Sherlock. "I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up."

"Worked ... up?" Sherlock spat.

"It was dark and scary ..."

Sherlock laughed sarcastically, "Me? There's nothing wrong with me."

He looked away, almost beginning to hyperventilate, as he put his fingertips to his temples, groaning in anguish. John looked at him in concern.

"Sherlock ..." he began.

"John, lay off him," Loki warned softly, noticing Sherlock's fingers beginning to tremble against his skin. Loki had been like this when he found out his true heritage, his father had not helped. He didn't want that to happen with Sherlock

John ignored him "Sher..."

"THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!" Sherlock exclaimed loudly, glaring at John. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?" He paused, looking at the patrons who were now staring. He turned back to John, one of his hands firmly clasped on the hand I had left on his arm. "You want me to prove it, yes?" He pulled in a deep breath. "We're looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that's your brilliant theory. Cherchez le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?"

He looked over his shoulder and pointed at a man and woman sitting opposite each other at a table in the corner of the restaurant.

"How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes."

"Yes?" John asked.

"She's got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we're looking for."

"Oh, Sherlock, for God's sake ..." John said quietly.

Sherlock looked briefly across at the man before turning away again.

"Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern, suggesting it's a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money." He took another quick glance. "He's treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her, but he's trying to economize on his own food."

"Well, maybe he's just not hungry." John supposed.

"No, small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she'd treated him, he'd have had as much as he wanted. He's hungry all right, and not well off – you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. How d'you know she's his mother?" Sherlock's voice was becoming a low hiss, almost frantic. "Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an elder sister, but mother's more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern on his hands, very distinctive – fish hooks. They're all quite old now, which suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. "Widowed?" Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain round her neck – clearly her late husband's and too big for her finger. She's well-dressed but her jewelry's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it – it's sentimental. Now, the dog: tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the knees, suggesting it's a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is – a West Highland terrier called Whisky. How the hell do you know that, Sherlock? 'Cause she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name and that's not cheating, that's listening, I use my senses, John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact I've never been better, so just Leave. Me. Alone."

He glared at John, who stared back at him in shock.

"Yeah." John said, clearing his throat. "Okay. Okay."

John attempted to settle back in his chair as Sherlock stared towards the fire, breathing heavily, his hand still firmly grasping mine.

"And why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend." John stated.

"I don't have friends." Sherlock spat savagely.

"Ouch!" Loki commented. That was nasty.

"Nah. Wonder why?" John said softly, getting up and walking turned back and looked at Loki with a murderous stare " You, get here now! You're coming with me!"

Loki glanced at Sherlock for permission but realized he wasn't going to do anything soon. He gulped and stood up thinking he was going to get it.


End file.
